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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27207673">The Haunting of Ljosalfgard</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jotunemo/pseuds/jotunemo'>jotunemo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Norse Mythology, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Injury, Brodinson feels, Brother Feels, Dark Magic, Gen, Loki (Marvel)-centric, Loki Feels, POV Loki (Marvel), Please be nice, Pre-Thor (2011), Protective Loki, Protective Thor, Thor is a bit of an arrogant prick, a little Loki angst on the side, constructive criticism is welcome, ghost story, halloween week, heroic loki, just saying, kind of, listen to your parents, loki fights with his mind, loki loves his silly brother very much, loyal loki, never go alone into the forest at night, ok maybe we get more than just a little loki angst on the side, some spook, this author breathes loki angst, this is my first attempt at writing something horror, tw blood, young loki, young thor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:35:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,006</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27207673</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jotunemo/pseuds/jotunemo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>On behalf of their father, the princes of Asgard travel to Alfheim to enquire about the crimes King Ljölgír has reported. Thor, young and far too eager to prove himself, convinces his brother to search for the culprit and so they venture into the forest in which an ominous magic dwells. When he and Thor are separated, Loki has a chance to be the hero this time.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Loki &amp; Thor (Marvel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. We are lost</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Here is my contribution for Halloween, one ~1500k word chapter every day until Saturday 🎃🦇 Enjoy! </p><p>As I wrote in the tags, this is my first attempt to write any type of ghost(ish) story for Halloween, so I don't know if it even works at all but I decided to give it a try.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“We’ll have to face it, brother,” grumbles Thor. “We are lost.”</p><p>“Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed.” Loki rolls his eyes in response to his brother’s observation. Of course they are lost, have been for the past two hours or so, but, since the Mighty Thor is pathologically incapable of admitting defeat, he forced Loki to tag along behind him despite the trickster’s objection how fruitless the endeavor was. So much for the ‘we’ here. If Thor wasn’t so norndamned stubborn, Loki could have been back home by now, sitting by the fire in his chambers, sipping mead from a cup and reading a book but no. Here they are, stumbling through the undergrowth of Alfheim’s largest forest, a chilly night breeze ruffling through their hair and penetrating their clothing.</p><p>“Let us just … call him from here,” Loki pleads. Under normal circumstances, they would use the Bifröst site they arrived at. Yet, since they haven’t been able to find this one anymore even after three hours of aimless walking, Heimdall and their father will certainly forgive them for calling the watcher from somewhere else. The reason Thor doesn’t want to call upon Asgard from this spot in the middle of nowhere is not because it is strictly forbidden but probably because he doesn’t want to have to explain to Odin why he got lost in a forest they both should know well by now. </p><p>Well, Loki does know the forest well or, at least, he thought he knew it well before they journeyed here today to enquire about the crimes King Ljölgír has reported to Asgard, requesting the Allfather’s help. It is the first time Odin trusted the princes with such a task without accompanying them and, of course, Thor is beyond terrified to fail their father by returning with ill tidings.</p><p>But since Odin is not here, he won’t be able to comprehend that this time, the forest seems entirely unfamiliar, wicked even, and considering what the King of Alfheim told them earlier, Loki has grown increasingly restless the more light bled from the sky. And now that nightfall has finally stolen the last faint rays of sunshine, that restlessness is quickly evolving into dread.</p><p>“Oooh,” Thor begins to tease him as if being able to read his thoughts. “Will you look at that? My little brother is still afraid of the dark. Aren’t you becoming a little too old for such foolery?” </p><p>Usually, Loki would take offense at this. He hates himself enough for waking up in the middle of the night sometimes, his heart beating to the hectic rhythm of an inexplicable but overwhelming panic inside his chest when he realizes that he is alone in the dark and has to stay there until morning because it is no longer appropriate to venture into his mother’s chambers for comfort and he certainly doesn’t need his brother to vocally delight in his weaknesses. But today, he does not because Thor’s light-hearted demeanor can’t quite mask his own uneasiness and picking up on Thor’s restlessness immediately sets Loki on edge, chasing all self-destructive thoughts from his mind. Thor is the last person on a quest to give in to childish fright. If the God of Thunder is scared, the Nine Realms will fall.</p><p>“I am not afraid of the dark,” Loki retorts, trying to pull himself together with a glance up at the pitch-black sky that he can spot in between the canopy of the forest. There are no stars, no moons, nothing. As if to dramatize the absence of any light whatsoever, an unidentifiable animal screeches in the distance. “It’s just that I already had enough of your stubbornness an hour ago. We won’t make it back without guidance and if you can’t acknowledge that to yourself, <em>you</em> are the fool.”</p><p>“Fine,” grumbles Thor, following Loki’s gaze.</p><p>“Heimdall?” shouts Loki. “Bring us home!” He senses the magic of the Rainbow Bridge swell in the air and relief floods through him until, suddenly, the wind rises around them, gusting at the branches over their heads, and then the Bifröstʼs glamour dies like a flame extinguished by a breeze, the repercussion flattening the grass under their boots.</p><p>Thor swallows, his gaze searching for Loki’s because even if his brother doesn’t pay much attention to the art of sorcery, even he must have felt the Seiᵭr burn out. “What was that?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Loki whispered, a shiver creeping down his spine.</p><p>“Heimdall?” shouts Thor. “Bring us back, <em>please</em>!”</p><p>This time, Loki can’t even feel a tiny surge of glamour. The Bifröst, it seems, is out of their reach, which is impossible since they’re still traveling on the branches of Yggdrasil. His stomach filling with ice, Loki reaches for his own Seiᵭr and feels it crackle around his fingertips as green sparks erupt from his skin but, after a brief flash of light, the breeze swallows the flames of Loki’s magic too. “Care to try summoning some lightning, dear brother?” </p><p>Thor closes his eyes, focusing on his powers, but his attempt to tap into them is as successful as what they tried so far. “Why can’t we use our magic?” Thor mumbles, an edge of dread sharpening his voice.</p><p>“We’re defenseless,” whispers Loki and the wind rises once more, swirling up leaves around his boots and hissing into his ear. </p><p>“We’re not defenseless,” Thor counters indignantly, his fingers tightening around the grip of his battle axe. “I still have Jarnbjorn and you your daggers and we may use them in combat.”</p><p><em>Marvelous</em>, thinks Loki. No matter how well he pretends to enjoy himself on the sparring ring to not disappoint the Allfather, Loki finds close combat exceptionally dull and unnecessary barbaric. He much prefers to use his glamour to outwit his opponents on the battlefield but since that isn’t an option, apparently, his daggers will have to do. </p><p>“Hello?” Thor calls out. “Is someone there?” </p><p>“Shshshsh,” Loki gasps. “Brother, what are you doing? Don’t you remember what—”</p><p>“I am getting us home,” snaps the God of Thunder. “I am Thor, prince of Asgard, son of Odin Allfather. I am here with my brother Loki and we mean you no harm. We are merely seeking a way back home! Please, reveal yourself!” </p><p><em>Marvelous</em>.</p><p>
  <em>Truly marvelous.</em>
</p><p>Thor is so full of himself that he is still convinced his name and title will protect him wherever he goes; even if there’s countless evidence to the contrary because, <em>surprise</em>, not everyone in the Nine Realms takes kindly to the Royal Family. Loki is sure there are reasons for that, reasons the history books conveniently left out, but he is also sure that a grudge against Odin’s sons is not the reason for this strange experience.</p><p>There comes no reply from the forest except for the hissing of the wind and the screams of animals in the distance, which seem so much louder and so much more threatening than they do during daytime.</p><p>“Tell me, brother,” sighs Loki. “In the face of this new, uh, development, how do you feel about exploring the forest by ourselves in the dusk instead of waiting for morning and going about it with reinforcements as I suggested?”</p><p>“Don’t do this,” snaps Thor.</p><p>Loki feigns innocence. “Don’t do what?”</p><p>“Impugn my judgment in that conceited way of yours.” Thor draws a breath. “You heard King Ljölgír, did you not? It is our duty to make sure the Nine Realms remain safe.”</p><p>“Yes, of course,” Loki snarks. “And plunging headfirst and imprudently into danger in order to prove one’s warriorhood has clearly proven to be <em>the</em> most effective way to ensure people’s safety.”</p><p>“Well, if you’re so smart, what would <em>you</em> have us do now?” Thor asks.</p><p>Unfortunately, Loki doesn’t have an answer to that.</p><p>“I thought so,” grumbles Thor. “Father send us here to make sure we return with answers. How will he ever consider me a worthy successor to the throne if I return with problems and a request for help instead?”</p><p>Loki lets out a breath, cursing his brother for constantly broaching the subject of the Asgardian line of succession. As the second prince, Loki won’t ever ascend to the throne unless some ill befalls his father and brother and, despite the rather bothersome traits of their personalities, he wouldn’t ever want that. But he also doesn’t need to be reminded of Thor’s firstbornness whenever he speaks to his brother. “So, what are we—”</p><p>Before Loki can finish, Thor cries out in a high pitch of fear and surprise, swiping at a bat flying towards them out of nowhere.</p><p>Loki chuckles. “Who is scared now?”</p><p>“Shut up,” grumbles Thor as he reaches for Loki’s arm, gently tugging at his sleeve. “Let us just keep moving.”</p><p>Loki’s heart sinks. “Moving where?”</p><p>“Anywhere. Or do you just want to stay here and sleep under a bush until dawn?”</p><p>Loki does not and so he reluctantly follows his brother, hoping that their path will lead them out of the forest at some point but knowing instinctively that it will lead them further in because it seems to be getting darker by the minute. That should be impossible since it has been utterly dark for a while, Loki knows this, but there is something about stumbling through the undergrowth of a dark forest and hearing strange noises at night that impairs your reasoning and your intellect.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Follow my voice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Twenty-seven children</em>, King Ljölgír said.</p><p>Twenty-seven children went missing during the last fortnight alone, vanished without a trace, never to be seen again. The people of Alfheim suspected those children ventured into the forest and reported strange occurrences such as landscapes suddenly shifting in front of their very eyes or waves of dark magic seemingly incapacitating them when they went to search for them. Yet, in contrast to the children, the grown elves always returned. The royal court told them all this, turning to Asgard’s vast knowledge of spellcraft for help. And, instead of consulting Asgard’s sorcerers on the matter before arriving at a decision, the son of Odin promised them he would investigate the mystery right away. Told them without even a moment’s hesitation, in fact, because that is what the son of Odin believes to be his duty.</p><p>Resolve conflict, rescue innocent souls from deadly peril, protect the Realms, fight for the good, vanquish the foes or bring them to justice. In short, be a beloved hero.</p><p>It has become evident to Loki over the centuries, however, that his brother is not always capable of distinguishing between bravery and recklessness, and he wishes their father would recognize how dangerous his son’s thirst for adventure can be at times. Because if he did, the Allfather would have been here with them and Thor wouldn’t have strode into the forest with his head held high, dragging his little brother along as he always does, oblivious to the consequences. Oblivious to the fact that he and Loki have not reached the age of maturity yet. Oblivious to the fact that, whichever way you look at it, despite their duties as Asgardian princes, they might still be considered children themselves.</p><p>“Do you really think we’ll be spared?” Loki asks but when he glances up, his brother is suddenly gone. “Thor?” Loki gulps. “Brother? Where <em>are</em> you? This isn’t <em>funny</em>!”</p><p>He receives no answer except for another chilly breeze whirling through the air, pulling at his hair, creeping into his collar and pouring ice down his spine.</p><p>“Thor?!” Loki screams. “Where are you?”</p><p>This is not the first time Loki faces either danger or terror but, in the past, his brother has always been there to protect him and, despite Loki’s resentment to Thor’s recklessness and battle hunger, Loki suddenly remembers that day in the mountains when he slipped on the gravel on the highest peak, losing his footing and almost plunging into the abyss. Thor caught him in time, made him feel safe, his strong hands around Loki’s wrist.</p><p>Thor always made him feel safe.</p><p>“Brother?” Loki cries out like a foolish child, his magic stirring inside of him as he chides himself for the tears that have crept into his voice unnoticed.</p><p>“Loki?” comes the answer and the trickster can feel a weight lifting off his chest. The sob that has been rising inside his throat leaves his mouth as a relieved laugh but then he realizes that, even though it sounds as if Thor is standing right next to him, Loki cannot see him.</p><p>“Yes, I’m here!” Loki calls out.</p><p>“So am I,” says Thor. “But … I can’t … You were suddenly gone.”</p><p>“I’m not gone,” whispers Loki, stretching out his hand to feel out his brother’s presence in the darkness. “I am right here.” He gropes about some more and, then suddenly, he feels something.</p><p>“Please tell me that it is <em>you</em> who is taking my hand right now,” Thor gasps.</p><p>“Yes,” Loki whispers but even though he’s squeezing Thor’s hand and Thor is squeezing his hand back, Loki still can’t see him. Judged by his vision, he is entirely alone even though his brother is <em>right there</em>.</p><p>“By Ymir’s bones,” stammers Thor. “What is happening to us?”</p><p>“<em>Come with me</em>,” whispers the faint voice of a young child and Loki swings around, inspecting the forest without letting go of Thor’s hand but there is no one in sight. “<em>Come with me and you will be safe</em>. <em>I will make it stop</em>.”</p><p>“The same thing that happened to the other children, I suppose. They were lured somewhere with magic.” Loki closes his eyes, focusing on the signature wafting through the air. “Dark magic.”</p><p>Thor sounds skeptical. “How can you know that?”</p><p>Loki swallows the lump of fear forming in his throat. “Didn’t you … hear that just now?”</p><p>“Heard what?” asks Thor.</p><p>“There was this voice just now,” Loki begins, repeating the child’s words for his brother as the voice calls out again. “<em>Follow me</em>. <em>Follow my voice</em>.”</p><p>“If we follow it, it’ll take us to where the children are kept,” muses Thor. “Right?”</p><p>“And probably to our doom,” Loki adds. “Yes.”</p><p>“Then, what are we waiting for?” Thor chuckles grimly. “Follow it.”</p><p>Loki’s jaw drops. “Are you out of your mind?”</p><p>“Are you out of yours?” Thor asks back. “There are innocent children out there who are most certainly suffering wherever they are and if we have a chance to stop that, we can’t turn back. We’d be cowards if we did.”</p><p>Loki suspected that Thor’s obsession with heroic bravery would be their downfall one day but he always supposed he still had a few centuries to live before that happened. “Alright. But do <em>not</em> let go of my hand, do you hear me?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t dream of it,” replies Thor.</p><p>Loki swallows and then, he forces his feet to move, following the child voice with his invisible yet still somehow corporeal brother by his side.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>It takes what feels like several hours but, eventually, the forest clears, revealing a deserted mansion that sends a chill down Loki’s spine because he can feel the thick, wicked Seiᵭr swirling around it.</p><p>“Are we there yet?” asks Thor.</p><p>“We are,” Loki replies.</p><p>“Describe it to me,” demands Thor. “All I am seeing is trees.”</p><p>“It’s, uh, a mansion. Very gloomy, very Transylvanian and very, very uninviting.” Loki chuckles desperately but then he remembers a spell he only recently discovered in one of the ancient tomes that Frigga gave him for self-study. He closes his eyes, blocking out his brother’s nagging, and tries to tap into the dark glamour surrounding the house. It takes him several attempts but, at last, he finds a vein that isn’t as guarded and he softly murmurs the runes and then, finally, breaks the spell separating him from his brother.</p><p>Thor appears right in front of him in a burst of green light, his hand still clutching Loki’s. “How did you … Did <em>you</em> do that?” Thor gasps as he lets go of him.</p><p>“I did. And I sincerely hope that you won’t deem mastering the art of sorcery a waste of time so openly from now on,” Loki remarks pointedly. Before Thor has a chance to voice his reply, they hear a child’s scream of agony coming from the mansion. They exchange a quick glance and Loki can see his own fear mirrored in his brother’s eyes.</p><p>“Ready?” asks Thor.</p><p>“No,” whispers Loki.</p><p>“Me neither. So, what are we waiting for?” Thor huffs a grim laugh and, despite the fear that has his limbs half-paralyzed, Loki knows that, if worse comes to worst, his brother won’t let any harm come to him and so he follows him up the creaking stairs leading to the mansion’s battered front door.</p><p>Thor doesn’t hesitate for a second and kicks down the door, releasing another gust of wind that almost swipes them off their feet, roaring something in an tongue as ancient as it is unintelligible. Loki stumbles backwards as the magical force slams into him but Thor’s hand is there, reaching for his arm, pulling him back towards him.</p><p>“Who is there?” yells the God of Thunder, receiving no reply except for another breeze so forceful that it seems to shake the very foundation of this strange house. There are more screams coming from the inside; terrified, agonized wails for help. “What do you want? Reveal yourself!”</p><p>Still, there is no verbal answer.</p><p>“Coward,” mutters Thor, taking a step into the mansion. The floorboards sigh eerily under his heavy leather boots, their creaking echoing through the night, ringing in Loki’s ears. “Is anyone here? We have come to help!”</p><p>The screams turn into a cacophony of lamentations as Loki inspects what he can see of the interior of the house in the dark, which, unsurprisingly, is in a state of advanced decay. Grimy walls with creaks in them; dust and cobwebs gracing the banister, the walls, the half-shattered chandelier dangling from the ceiling; the large staircase leading upstairs looming in front of them displaying several broken steps.</p><p>“Helloooo?” yells Thor.</p><p>There comes a deep, disembodied growl from the inside of the house, its echo bouncing off the walls and shaking the floors of the derelict mansion once more. It takes Loki all the power he has not to reach for his brother’s hand again.</p><p>“We are princes of Asgard!” Thor hollers. “And we are here to free the innocent children of the Light Elves you are keeping captive! I am not going to ask you again. <em>Reveal yourself</em>!”</p><p>The power at work does not reveal itself. Of course, it does not. It laughs, a deeply disturbing maniacal cackle, its magic reaching for them. In a fit of panic, Loki closes his eyes, rashly murmuring a protection spell by tapping into the magic surrounding him and it seems to work, doesn’t it, <em>yes</em>, thank the Norns, <em>it does</em>, he can feel the protective shield materializing around him but when he opens his eyes again, he realizes to his great dismay that he only managed to shield himself.</p><p>Thor is gone.</p><p><em>Again</em>.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Charming lodgings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tw blood</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Brother?” Loki whispers softly but, this time, he receives no answer except for more screams from somewhere deep within the house; strangely distorted screams, as if the noise is reaching his ears through water. But perhaps it is merely the spell affecting his perception.</p><p>At least, the dark power seems to have receded for the moment and, for that, he is grateful. <em>Small steps</em>, they say. <em>Small steps</em>.</p><p>He closes his eyes, listening for the origin of the noise.</p><p>Keeping the protective shield up, Loki takes his first tentative steps into the mansion. He isn’t an highly accomplished sorcerer yet and, even though his mother praises his gift on an almost daily basis, he can’t tell how exactly the protection spell he whispered moments ago is protecting him or how it influences his perception. He has no way of knowing whether it merely keeps him from harm or shields him from view, which would be favorable, of course, but, in the end, all he can do is hope for the best while focusing on the task ahead.</p><p>The floorboards creaking under his boots, Loki walks towards the staircase. He hesitates for a moment but then he puts his right foot onto the first step, testing if the rotting wood will support his weight. When he is satisfied he won’t fall through, plummeting straight into the underbelly of the wicked mansion, he carefully advances up the stairs.</p><p>Setting one foot in front of the other, Loki begins to understand what the Light Elves meant by suddenly shifting landscapes. All of a sudden, his surroundings blur into nauseating fuzziness, the stairs seemingly endless one moment, the second floor nowhere in sight, and then it seems to be right in front of him and then his boots seem to melt into the wooden stairs and Loki’s head starts to spin as it would after a few cups of mead too many. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to focus on the lamenting that he is now sure comes from upstairs. And not only that, he is suddenly sure that he recognizes Thor’s voice amongst the moaning children and when he does, his heart gives a lurch. He clings to the banister, setting one foot in front of the other, <em>careful</em>, <em>careful</em>, until his feet finally touch the floor at the top of the stairs.</p><p>Loki squints but when he opens his eyes, his vision is still blurry. The hallway veers in and out of focus, the whining of the children echoing in his ears, clattering through his skull, but then, from one second to the next, the entire mansion goes eerily still.</p><p>“Thor?” Loki gasps but he doesn’t hear anything except for the vibrating echo of his pathetically shaky voice. He squeezes his eyes shut again. <em>I am coming</em>, <em>brother</em>. By Odin’s beard, Thor saved him from danger so many times, if he can’t save him for a change now, what kind of brother would he be?</p><p><em>Pathetic</em>. <em>Useless</em>. <em>Weak</em>.</p><p><em>Please</em>, <em>I am almost there</em>, thinks Loki even though he does not have the faintest idea where ‘there’ is and, <em>the Norns be damned</em>, his swimming vision makes him so nauseous that he takes a sharp breath and lifts his protection spell. He read countless warnings about the side effects of tapping into black Seiᵭr even for one as versed in magic as the Queen herself but Loki has always been far too curious to accept every word of wisdom scholars wrote down eons ago without testing it himself. But, in this case, his mother seems to have been right and Loki certainly learned his lesson about meddling with black magic.</p><p>For now.</p><p>When his vision clears again, Loki can see that there are eight dark-red doors on the second floor, four on either side, paint peeling off the walls around them. Loki tries them all—the noises of the floor boards creaking beneath his boots at every step and the rush of his own blood pounding in his ears the only sounds—but neither of the rooms reveals anything except for darkness, vagabonded furniture, layers of grimy dust and cobwebs.</p><p>The children’s moaning reaches his ears again, clearer this time as when he was enshrouded by his protection spell, even though Loki hears their cries from very near one moment and then from very far the next.</p><p>Outside, the sky tears open without warning.</p><p>Rain starts falling, pounding on the roof.</p><p>Gusts of wind pick up speed and swiftly turn into a storm that sweeps over the mansion, rattling at the roof tiles, the battered front door and the window shutters with such force that Loki doubts the mansion will be able to resist the force of nature. For a brief moment, he imagines the rumble of thunder in the distance and his heart aches for his brother’s presence but he has no time for such cloying sentimentality because his eyes catch a flickering light on the periphery of his vision; a light casting a dancing shadow against the wall.</p><p>Loki gulps, his heart slamming against his ribcage.</p><p>There is someone behind him.</p><p>Someone holding a candle.</p><p>“Who are you?” demands a deep voice from the end of the hallway that is not Thor’s and, <em>by Odin’s ravens</em>, why is it not Thor’s? “And how did you resist her lure?”</p><p>Loki has to force himself not to shudder despite the fact that the blood in his veins seems to freeze, has to force himself to turn around, conquer his fear and face an enemy without his brother for the first time in his life. The voice belongs to an elf who is awe-inspiringly tall, the top of his head almost reaching the ceiling, and who surely was a Light Elf once before the dark magic he has been wielding corroded him. His formerly pale skin is now gray and leathery, his long hair white and flimsy, gossamer even, and his black eyes laced with red sparks are gleaming out of his face like two pieces of hot coal.</p><p>“I am no one really. I lost my way in the forest,” answers Loki as it dawns on him that he’ll be able to tell a heroic tale of his own come the next feast instead of merely being Thor’s entourage in a quest and that realization gives him the surge of confidence he needed. “It is quite disorienting out there, to be perfectly frank. And I merely experimented a bit with the magic festering inside this place. No intentional resisting any lure involved, I’m afraid.” He clears his throat. “Now, I, uh, I’m looking for my brother. Where is he?”</p><p>“He belongs to this house now.” The elf chuckles grimly and places his candle on the ground. “And since there doesn’t seem to be any use for you, I will give you a fair chance to run but if you take too much time …” He lets his voice trail off.</p><p>Loki draws a sharp breath because, <em>of course</em>, why would someone have ever use for him? “Well, I sincerely thank you for your offer but returning home without my brother is truly not an option. My father would be sorely disappointed if I did.” Loki chuckles. “The Norns help me, he would probably blame <em>me</em> and that prospect isn’t all too promising, if you know what I mean, so we’ll need to renegotiate.”</p><p>“You talk too much,” snarls the elf, drawing his sword.</p><p><em>Marvelous</em>. Loki whips out his daggers. “So I have been told,” he gasps as he charges towards the elf, causing his adversary to chuckle condescendingly.</p><p>The elf wields his sword, raising it above his head with both hands to intercept Loki’s attack and Loki senses then that his weapon is oozing with the same black magic festering inside this place; which makes him wonder whether the elf is truly wielding the Seiᵭr or if the Seiᵭr has taken possession of him, controlling him. The elf’s sword averts Loki’s dagger with a loud clang and then he lunges out himself but the trickster manages to duck his adversary’s thrust as well, swiftly deflecting the sword with the blade of one of his daggers, and he can feel the magical repercussion in his wrist. But, even so, the magic wafting from the elf’s blade is still too weak to be the source of the magic Loki senses all around him. No, the sword merely absorbed the magic festering inside the mansion.</p><p>As did everything else, it seems.</p><p><em>He belongs to the house now</em>.</p><p>The house is the culprit, the elf merely a puppet.</p><p>“How long have you resided in these charming lodgings?” Loki asks as he dodges another sword thrust, leading the lethal dance of close combat he usually finds so utterly dull. The elf pauses for a moment but then his dark eyes narrow at the Asgardian. “What does it matter to you?”</p><p>“I am just curious. I am also curious how to address you,” says Loki but the elf’s lips merely open and close in anger. “My name is Loki. What is yours?”</p><p>This last question takes his adversary entirely by surprise and he lowers his sword just enough for Loki to close in on him and ram his dagger into the creature’s upper arm. The elf cries out in pain and surprise, blood gushing from the wound and splattering Loki’s face as the elven blade clatters to the floor. The elf clutches his arm with his left hand, blood seeping through his long, pale fingers, and he moans in pain as he sinks to the splintered wooden floor.</p><p>Loki picks up the sword and fastens it to his own belt. “Now, let us try again, shall we? <em>Where</em> is my brother?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. I am not leaving without my brother</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You cannot have him back,” whispers the elf, his voice succumbing to terror as his black eyes fade into a light brown. “She won’t let you have him back. She claimed him. You can be thankful she didn’t claim you as well. We need to leave at once.”</p><p>“Why didn’t she?” asks Loki because, even if that is the least important question of all, it is the one that matters the most to him. Because he isn’t thankful. He is hurt. He is reminded of the fact that there seems to be something inherently wrong with him. Something so wrong that even the wicked magic putrefying this mansion has no use for him.</p><p><em>What use will you be for Asgard’s defenses if you do not learn how to fight amongst our warriors</em>?</p><p>“Because you possess magic strong enough to resist her,” whispers the elf. “She craves the souls of helpless, innocent children, not—”</p><p>“How dare you speak of my brother as if he were a helpless child,” Loki cuts in, insulted on Thor’s behalf and very much oblivious to what the elf told him about his own strength. “He is a proud warrior who has slain many a foe. He is a crown prince and he is, in fact, older than I am!”</p><p>“He might be all of these things but, tell me, can he prevail against dark magic like you can?” asks the elf, his leathery skin slowly fading from dark gray into paleness. “Instinctively tap it into it?”</p><p>“He can prevail against anything,” replies Loki, which is a lie, of course, because Thor isn’t skilled in sorcery—he barely manages to control his lightning powers on some days—but the trickster needs this lie for comfort and for focus because thinking about the truth would be too unnerving, too hurtful, too distracting. He needs to stay focused, particularly since he can feel the sword’s magic on his belt seep into him.</p><p>The children break out into mourning once more then, their pain like a knife twisting into his gut.</p><p>“We need to leave before we succumb to her spell again,” says the elf, whose blood is drying on Loki’s face as the creature tries to heave himself back onto his feet, groping at the wall for support with his long, slimy, bloody fingers. “Please, listen to me. You released me from her spell and you have my eternal gratitude for that. Now, will you please allow me to save your life in return?”</p><p>“I am <em>not</em> leaving this mansion without my brother,” snaps Loki, jerking away from the elf reaching out to him even though he just moments ago tried to slash the trickster’s throat with a cursed blade. “Just tell me where he is and what she, or this house, wants from the children and then you may run as fast as your feet can carry you.”</p><p>The elf swallows.</p><p>“Tell me where they are,” Loki demands.</p><p>“I don’t know,” whispers the elf.</p><p>“You don’t know,” Loki repeats and something malevolent stirs inside of him. Something he never felt before because no one ever threatened to take a beloved person away from him in the past. “How can you <em>not</em> know?”</p><p>“They are here, inside this house,” says the elf and one of the wooden stairs begins to creak when another gust of wind sweeps over the mansion, rattling at the roof as if to emphasize that the mansion is alive. “But, you see, if I say inside, I do not mean inside a particular room such as the cellar or the attic. What I mean is that the house ... devoured them.”</p><p>“Because she craves the souls of children,” Loki repeats. “What does she want from them?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” whispers the elf.</p><p>“You do not seem to know an awful lot,” Loki points out sourly. “What have you been doing here, if you don’t mind me asking?”</p><p>The elf swallows. “To be honest, I’ve been seeking refuge in the mansion a little over a month ago,” he admits. “I am … on the run.” He clears his throat. “From the law.”</p><p>A desperate chuckle slips past Loki’s lips. “Well, well, look just how swiftly punishment followed you.” He briefly considers his options, weighing them against each other, his head pounding and his vision blurring at the edges again because of the norndamned sword he is forced to keep so dangerously close to his body. “Well, you may go now, I suppose. Keep running. Or, perhaps, you will reconsider helping me to locate the missing ones if I promise you to plead your case before King Ljölgír?”</p><p>The elf swallows once more but Loki doesn’t hear the sound over the raging storm outside and the wails of the children inside. He merely sees the man’s throat move. “You would … do that for me?”</p><p>“I might,” Loki replies. “Now, I believe I’ve heard the voices come from upstairs. Is there any way we can access the, uh, I believe you called it the attic?”</p><p>“I haven’t yet found a way to access it,” says the elf.</p><p>“I hope you are aware that your unhelpfulness has not yet ceased to infuriate me,” Loki grumbles as he combs the walls for any hidden clues, the elf holding his candle out to him, but his knees grow increasingly weaker and sharp pains continue to stab into his skull. “This sword, is it yours?”</p><p>“Yes,” says the elf. “Well, no. I mean, yes, I brought it here but it is not mine. I stole it, which is the reason—”</p><p>“I understand,” Loki interrupts sharply. “If I were to put it down, could I be sure you won’t touch it again to attack me?”</p><p>“You have my word.”</p><p>“Good,” says Loki as he unfastens the sword as swiftly as he can before he throws it as far away from him as he can, the blade clattering to the wooden floor at the end of the hallway. Loki breathes a sigh of relief but the power festering inside the mansion does not appreciate him discarding of the weapon at all.</p><p>It rears up again, hissing at them in an ancient black tongue and releasing another gust of magical wind inside that shakes the foundation of the decaying building and almost knocks Loki off his feet again.</p><p>“I-I told you,” stammers the elf, panic flaring up in his hazel eyes as he drops the candle to the floor. “We cannot stay here. It is <em>not</em> safe! This p-place, it is d-doomed!”</p><p>Tears well into Loki’s eyes, blinding him for the moment, because if that is true …</p><p>“Run,” gasps the elf as he bolts for the stairs, fleeing the mansion without flicking as much as another glance at the trickster.</p><p>If he will never see Thor again because his reckless oaf a brother threw himself headfirst into danger for the last time to prove his worthiness as son and king of Asgard … if this is the end of their brotherhood… if he can’t save his brother as his brother would have undoubtedly saved him had their positions been reversed …  if he returns home without … without … No, he can’t. Loki’s life will be forfeit if he returns home without Thor. He can’t … He can’t ….</p><p>Suddenly, the thick, acrid smell of smoke hooks into Loki’s nostrils and into his throat, shaking him out of his thoughts, his eyes widening in naked terror.</p><p><em>No</em>.</p><p>Loki’s eyes fixate on the candle the elf has thrown to the floor, on the smoldering fire licking the wooden floorboards, crackling deviously, hungrily leaping up the walls and devouring the wallpaper.</p><p>“No!”</p><p>Loki removes his tunic, wishing he had access to his magic to conjure up his battle armor out of thin air as he lunges forward, desperately trying to stifle the flames, but the fire has already grown too hungry as if it too is being fed by the dark magic growing inside the mansion. The tunic lights up in the trickster’s hands, forcing him to drop the fabric even against his will, sparks erupting all around him that swiftly die and turn into ash floating to the ground like dirty snowflakes.</p><p>Outside, the rainstorm is still raging, pounding down on the roof.</p><p>Inside, the fire keeps crackling and the dark power keeps hissing and the children keep lamenting and Loki strains to make out Thor’s voice among the cries but there is so much roaring, so much shaking, so much rattling.</p><p>“Brother!” Loki screams, tears and smoke choking his throat. “Tell me where you are! Please, if you can hear me, tell me where in all the Realms you are! <em>Please</em>! You <em>must</em> tell me! Thor! Talk to me! <em>Thor</em>!”</p><p>Loki tries to focus on the sword, on the magic pulsating inside the blade. Tries to tap into it, tries to reach his brother.</p><p>He can’t live without his brother.</p><p>“Thor,” sobs Loki, the flames devouring the building, sparks raining down on the trickster like a bright orange shower. He feels them singe his skin and the roof begins to collapse above him, wooden beams and roof tiles crashing to the floor around him, but still he can’t seem to move. How could he flee this mansion if that means that his brother will remain trapped here? Trapped for all eternity, only to be preyed upon by a wicked ancient force that feeds upon the Norns what?</p><p>No.</p><p>Loki can’t return to Asgard without his brother.</p><p>He can’t remain alive when Thor is not.</p><p>If Thor is to die here, so is he.</p><p>The rain begins to pour into the wicked mansion then, quenching the flames but dislodging more parts of the roof and sending them toppling down around Loki.</p><p>The house trembles.</p><p>The storm rages on.</p><p>The children scream.</p><p>“<em>Brother</em>,” gasps Thor, his voice suddenly emerging out of the cacophony of horrid noises charring Loki’s eardrums. “<em>You must leave at once</em>!”</p><p>“Thor,” wails Loki.</p><p>“<em>Leave the mansion</em>! <em>Now</em>!”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes, there was bound to be a lot of angst. I just can't help it x</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. His sharpest weapon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Thor.”</p><p>Despite his greatest efforts to keep himself from unraveling, Loki can’t stop whimpering his brother’s name. He is standing outside the mansion, shivering, wrapping his arms around himself against the cold of the night as he watches the roof collapse and the flames die out, his clothes long drenched by the merciless downpour, his lungs revolting against all the smoke he inhaled, his vision blurred by tears and fatigue and despair.</p><p>There is no sign of the elf as far as his eyes can see but that does not surprise him, considering that the elf is an inglorious thief who almost burned a mansion with innocent children inside to the ground. Loki is sure he will never see him again and that is perhaps for the better because if he did, he would not drive his dagger into the arm of the wretched creature this time.</p><p>“Where <em>are</em> you, brother?”</p><p>He receives no reply but, eventually, the mansion stops shaking, gray puffs of smoke swirling into the black, starless sky. Loki gulps because he suddenly notices that the sky is not only starless. It is cloudless too.</p><p><em>How in all the Realms</em>?!</p><p>He draws a shaky breath, terror creeping up on him, and, as soon as he realizes that it should not be raining, the rain does stop and the forest goes eerily still for a long moment.</p><p>Loki stands alone in the dark, a sense of utter powerlessness rooting him to the spot because he is trapped too, isn’t he? He is hallucinating because the woods have been poisoned by this power and if he can’t even tell whether any of this is real, how could he possibly—</p><p>The house rears up again, hissing in the ancient tongue, releasing a gust of wind that blows straight into the trickster’s face, ruffling through his hair.</p><p>Loki’s heart skips what feels like several beats and, then, suddenly, the children cry out once more.</p><p>“<em>Come to us</em>!”</p><p>“<em>Help us</em>!”</p><p>“<em>Follow our voice</em>!”</p><p>“<em>We need you</em>!”</p><p>If the children are still here, Thor is still <em>here</em>, wherever here physically means in that case, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that Loki might still be able to save his brother, even if he dwells in another plane of existence at the moment. Even if Loki can’t possibly know what is real and what is not. Naturally, arguments could be mounted that Loki only imagined Thor screaming at him to leave because his innate survival instincts failed him in his state of distress, but Loki will not accept this. Their mother has always insisted on the strong bond he shares with his brother and, as long as there is hope that Thor is still inside that mansion, he will continue to search for him even if it is the last thing he will ever do.</p><p>Loki wraps what remains of his attire tighter around himself, and then steps back into the mansion, listening out for any noise. First, he hears nothing but then, faint though the noise is, the children’s lamenting reaches his ears again. And these sounds are different, he notices with great dismay. They aren’t luring him inside like the voices outside did, no, these children are suffering and in pain, which means that the voices outside weren’t real and he just walked right into a trap.</p><p>Still, he has to make sure. Because he can’t leave this place without his brother. Because he’d be a coward if he did. Because his father would never forgive him if he turned around and simply walked away.</p><p>Loki strains his ears in an attempt to locate the weeping. With the roof all but devoured by flames and water, it seems to be coming from below now.</p><p><em>From the cellar</em>.</p><p>If you were inclined to believe in folklore across the Realms, the evil and the ominous always resides in the underbelly of a structure such as this and the Asgardians themselves keep the wicked imprisoned in the dungeons far below the vault.</p><p><em>Evil belongs in the deep</em>.</p><p>Despite being littered with debris from the roof and the first floor, water trickling down the stairs from above, the main floor still appears stable enough to walk on. The wooden structure is sighing heavily under Loki’s boots as he carefully makes his way back into the house—<em>creak</em>, <em>creeaak</em>, <em>creeeaaak</em>—but, at least, he is fairly sure it won’t collapse under his weight right away. Loki surrounds the staircase he climbed earlier, discovering a door in the wall.</p><p>He carefully pushes it open, the black magic hissing at him again as another dark staircase leading into the mansion’s basement glares back at him. The steps are made of stone and they display some cracks, as does the ceiling. Loki can feel the cobwebs catch in his hair and the dust crumble onto his face as he clumsily descends the stairs. Despite the wicked presence wordlessly threatening him, he ventures into the cold, unforgiving darkness, feeling his way forward by running his palm along the grimy wall. “Brother? I am coming. I am <em>coming</em>!”</p><p>Loki tries to tap into his glamour, any glamour, for some light and, even if that means he might be led astray again, he keeps the light-green flame erupting from his fingertips alight as he stumbles down further and further, the cries of the children once again coming from so far away that they seem to reach his ears through thick cotton.</p><p>And then the door slams shut above him and Loki glances upstairs, his heart leaping into his throat because the stairs are suddenly so unnaturally long that he cannot even <em>see</em> the door anymore and when he swirls back around, flicking a glance downstairs, he sees never-ending stairs as well, no bottom inside.</p><p>A barrow’s load of uru settles on the bottom of Loki’s stomach. He sneered at Thor for his recklessness innumerable times but he did the very same thing just now, did he not? He threw himself headfirst into danger with merely a very slim chance of victory. As far as he knows, the lamenting might be an auditory illusion too, meaning that neither the children nor Thor are actually trapped down there because this ‘there’ Loki keeps thinking of doesn’t even seem to exist. The mansion itself might now exist. He gulps, his blood running cold. What if <em>none</em> of this has been is real and he has been dreaming ever since they stepped into the forest corrupted by this ominous magic? What if he never had a chance to save them? What if Thor is still stumbling through the forest, looking for <em>him</em>? What if he has gone insane because he is as susceptible to any sort of magic as Frigga always told him he was?</p><p>No, they are <em>here</em>. Somewhere.</p><p>He can <em>hear</em> them, <em>feel</em> their presence.</p><p>Thor’s presence.</p><p>He is not succumbing to insanity.</p><p>He is not <em>mad</em>.</p><p>He can still <em>help</em> them.</p><p>Loki extinguishes the flame crackling around his fingertips with a silent chant and draws a sharp breath, alone in utter darkness. Having grown accustomed to the light of his magic, faint though it was, Loki’s eyes need a very long moment to even make out his own hands in front of his eyes.</p><p>Shuddering in the cold, Loki stifles a sob.</p><p>Thor was right earlier. Of course he was. His brother knows him better than anyone else. He knows that Loki is still afraid of the dark because darkness, even though it is merely the absence of light and a logical necessity, makes him feel so inexplicably vulnerable, so inexplicably alone, so inexplicably lost. And if he can’t even endure the darkness of his chambers during some nights, how is he supposed to endure <em>this</em>?</p><p>Panic nearly submerging him, Loki starts to run back upstairs but, no matter how far, no matter how long he runs, he never reaches the door.</p><p>Because the door is gone.</p><p>Loki gasps for air even though there is no air anymore. His heart slams against his ribs, pounding so fast that breathing becomes almost impossible because he is trapped, isn’t he, yes, he is trapped; lost; abandoned. He will never find his way back, he will never see his family again, he will never hug his brother or mother again, he will never see Asgard again, he will never grow up to be—</p><p>“<em>You do not get to give up now</em>,” murmurs Thor’s voice from very, very far away. “<em>I have faith in you</em>, <em>brother</em>.”</p><p>“Thor,” whispers Loki, tears of gratitude welling into his eyes. No, he cannot give up. Cannot succumb to dread. Thor wouldn’t if their positions were reversed. Thor would charge down the stairs with an angry roar until he reached the bottom, no matter how long it it’d take him.</p><p>Such stubborn zeal is not Loki’s forte, of course, but he has other strengths. Blocking out the faint cries of the missing ones and his own fear, Loki sits down on the stairs of stone, feeling the coldness of the building under his bottom, and avails himself to <em>his</em> sharpest weapon.</p><p>His mind.</p><p>Much to his brother’s condescending amusement or outright dismay, depending on Thor’s mood, Loki spends a significant amount of his time reading because the activities other Asgardians rejoice in have a way of tremendously wearying the trickster. He read countless books about the history of the Realms, about ancient spells and ancient legends. Maybe he did read about this power haunting the forest of Ljosalfgard in one of those dusty tomes in the Asgardian library.</p><p><em>She won’t let you have him back</em>.</p><p><em>She claimed him</em>. <em>She craves the souls of helpless</em>, <em>innocent children</em>.</p><p><em>What I mean is that the house devoured them</em>.</p><p>Not that Loki can be certain whether the disheveled elf actually knew what he was talking about but he did not use ‘she’ when he talked about the house. He only said ‘she’ when he talked about the power.</p><p>The power <em>possessing</em> the house.</p><p>Loki does not have enough knowledge of Alfheim at his disposal to determine whether this house has any historical significance or the power just sought it out randomly because it has been visibly deserted for quite some time but it hardly matters.</p><p>What truly matters is what the dark power wants.</p><p><em>Children</em>.</p><p><em>Small children</em>. <em>Innocent children</em>. <em>Helpless children</em>.</p><p>Ironically, and probably very idiotically, it is not the wisdom of Asgardian books he uncovers from the depths of his mind. It is a ghost tale Volstagg once told by the fire, probably with the sole purpose of giving Loki a fright when he was still very young.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The yearning mother</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A ghost tale about a power that has been growing in the river Dream. According to legend, that river is a magical current subsisting on the dreams of all the beings dwelling in all the Nine Realms, devouring all their wishes, their hopes, their anxieties, their traumas, their fears, and transforming them into spirits that desire to cross the threshold between the world of the living and the world of Dream at all times.</p><p>This power, Volstagg told them in an ominous voice, has been feasting on the nightmares of women across the worlds who lost their children in all sorts of ways. During childbirth, before they were even born, to sickness, plague or war. This power desires children’s souls to fill a gaping hole and it has been aching to reach out and cross into the world of the living for eons to reclaim what was lost to all those mothers.</p><p>“And once it finds an entrance into our world,” Volstagg finished in a deep, solemn voice before he sprang to his feet for the grand finale, “it will haunt the children of the living and it will grab them, violently, mercilessly, wrenching them from their families and it will never <em>ever</em> return them again!”</p><p>Loki did not sleep at all for several nights after he heard that tale. He was terrified of being taken from his home, from his brother and mother, and, for that reason alone, he is inclined to dismiss Volstagg’s foolish story because he knows now he only told it to frighten him. None of Thor’s friends appreciated him tagging along behind his older brother all the time and this was only one of the countless measures they took to get rid of him.</p><p>Yet, Loki is not one to leave even a pebble unturned and it would be quite amusing, wouldn’t it, if the tale the Voluminous told him simply to cause him misery should now turn out to be the key to save his cherished companion the Thunderer?</p><p>Loki chuckles because, <em>all be damned</em>, the Norns do have an odd sense of humor sometimes. Curious to see what would happen if he didn’t dismiss the foolish tale, the trickster clears his throat.</p><p><em>Móðirþrá</em>, Volstagg named her.</p><p><em>The Yearning Mother</em>.</p><p>Loki draws a breath and calls the wicked power dwelling in the mansion by that name in a creaky voice because the Gods know better than anyone else does that there is tremendous power in a name. When the darkness does not dissolve around him, Loki repeats the name, more forceful this time, his voice gaining strength. “I command you to leave this Realm,” shouts the trickster, tapping into the untainted glamour that he was born with and that is pulsating through his veins with every breath he takes. “You have no power here! Return to the world of Dream from whence you came!”</p><p>The building trembles once again, hissing at him in that unintelligible ancient black tongue, but, this time, the illusion begins to fade after the power’s wordless cries fade away.</p><p>Loki is still sitting on the staircase, yes, but now he can at last see the cellar in front of him and he can see the stone well in the middle of the dusty ground.</p><p>A well.</p><p>A threshold between the world of the living and the world of Dream, a place where the fabric between the worlds is thin enough for the shadowy ephemera to cross over, a place where the magical veins of the Yggdrasil brush the magical veins of everything beyond.</p><p>And, of course, it had to be a well, didn’t it?</p><p><em>How dreadfully unoriginal</em>.</p><p>Drawing a sharp breath, Loki forces himself to rise to his feet and walk down to inspect it. A lump forming in his throat, he sets on foot in front of the other, until he reaches the well and bends over, gazing into it, ignoring the creaking of the door above him and the footsteps thudding down the stairs because it is probably his imagination running wild again. Ever since he set foot in this mansion, he has been hallucinating and now that the illusion faded, he will no longer give in to childish—</p><p>Loki shrieks when someone—something?—touches his shoulders from behind.</p><p>“It is you,” gasps Thor when he spun him around with his big, strong hands. “I thought … I didn’t …” He blinks, trying to clear his vision. “Are you alright?”</p><p>“Thor,” gasps Loki, almost choking on his brother’s name. “Y-yes, I, uh … I …”</p><p>“You fool!” Thor exclaims, punching his arm again and again and again. A punch from the God of Thunder hurts like no other but Loki is too relieved to see his brother again to take offense. “You norndamned fool! You just stood there, amongst the flames! You didn’t even … What in all the Realms were you <em>thinking</em>, not even trying to leave?”</p><p><em>How could I leave without you</em>?</p><p>“You should feel honored,” jests Loki. “There are very few people I’d ever deem worthy of my sacrifice.”</p><p>Thor grabs his shoulders, gently this time, and leans forward, pressing his forehead against Loki’s. “Thank you, brother.” He releases him, softly brushing his lips against the trickster’s forehead, making him feel oddly uncomfortable now that the glory is truly his alone for once. “You saved them. Saved me.”</p><p>Loki glances at the well, something still nagging at him. “I am not so sure.”</p><p>“The children are in the parlor and we can return them to their families now. That is what we came here to do,” says Thor.</p><p>“But … what if the power returns?” Loki murmurs.</p><p>“What if it does not?” Thor asks back. “A wise sorcerer once said we should return with reinforcements at dawn and not throw ourselves recklessly into danger in the dead of night. Who was that again?”</p><p>“Shut up,” Loki chuckles. “You are possibly right. A rare occurrence, one might add.”</p><p>For a moment, the trickster is certain his brother will deliver a retort but, curiously, he does not. He merely smiles. “Take the children outside,” says Loki as he casts a protective shield over the well. “I’ll meet you there but there’s an artifact I have to retrieve first.”</p><p>“That sword?” asks Thor.</p><p>Loki gives a nod.</p><p>Thor’s eyebrows draw together in a frown. “Why?”</p><p>“For study?” Loki asks on a shrug.</p><p>He slowly feels his way up the rotten stairs, careful not to get stuck or fall through the stairs.</p><p>When the trickster finally leaves the mansion again, hopefully for good this time, the sword dangling from his belt, and sees the elven children, his chest yawns open. There is almost forty of them and they are clustered around his big brother, clinging to his strong built. They look haggard, eyes widened in terror still, their face smeared with soot and dirt. Thor is carrying two little elflings, balancing them on either of his hips, and three others are tightly hanging on to his elbow and his legs. The rest of them are huddling against each other, the bigger children hugging the smaller ones. Some of them are still whimpering and Loki cannot imagine the horrors they had to endure, many of them for weeks.</p><p>“This is my brother,” Thor informs them. “Loki, son of Odin.”</p><p>One of the elflings takes a step towards him. “Thank you for chasing her away,” whispers the child, hesitantly reaching for his hand.</p><p>“You are very welcome,” replies Loki as he takes the little elven hand into both of his, gently squeezing it. “Now, my brother and I will lead you home.”</p><p>The elfling nods but then he sobs, tears spilling out of his terrified blue eyes. Loki picks the child up, cradling the cold, shivering body against his chest, brushing his lips against the top of his little head. “Shshshsh. You are safe now, little one,” whispers Loki, praying that his protection spell will hold long enough for them to send a more experienced sorcerer to investigate the threshold. “We will take you home.”</p><p>***</p><p>“Where were you?” Loki asks his brother as soon as they released the frightened children into the arms of their weeping mothers and departed for the Bifröst site. “Were you inside the house this whole time?”</p><p>“I am not even sure anymore,” Thor grumbles. “I was in the house but, then again, I felt as if I was not at times and I saw you but you did not seem to see or hear me unless I put my whole mind to reaching yours, which was all but a simple task since I had to console the little ones while attempting to ignore these … illusions of the mansion shifting and I … It felt like …”</p><p>“Intoxication,” Loki offers. “Yes. Dark magic can have such side effects if you aren’t skilled in guarding yourself against it with complex protection spells. I still have a lot to learn.”</p><p>“All in due time, brother,” Thor assures him and there is a bitter edge of frustration to his tone because the Thunderer is still waiting to wield Mjölnir one day, knowing all about the stony path one has to travel to reach one’s full potential. “Where did that elf go?”</p><p>“Fled,” grumbles Loki. “Like the coward and the thief that he is. I am still puzzling over what the power might have wanted from a wretched creature like him.”</p><p>“His body, possibly,” suggests Thor. “She longed to touch the children, to hold us in her arms, but for that, she would have needed a body. She tried to take yours, did she not?”</p><p>“She did,” Loki finishes. “Through the sword. Which makes sense now that we know it has been forged in Niᵭavellir. The elf brought it there, enabling her to slowly take possession of him by tapping into the magic welded into the blade.” A chuckle rises in his sword. “What a pitiful creature.”</p><p>“A pitiful creature who could have still slashed your throat.”</p><p>Loki chuckles. “Mother will be glad to hear that the daggers she gifted me fulfill their intended purpose in the world beyond the sparring ring.”</p><p>“Your victory is not the weapon’s achievement. You fought well, brother,” says Thor, his hand landing on the trickster’s shoulder as they step into the circle of patterned markings left by the Rainbow Bridge. “Father will be proud.”</p><p>One can always hope, thinks Loki as the Bifröst’s Seiᵭr sweeps them off their feet and engulfs them in waves of pleasant glamour, sending them home to their own mother, who awaits them in the royal chambers with a soft smile playing upon her lips and who, even after all these years, still opens her arms to pull them into an embrace.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>~ The End ~</strong>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>All's well that ends well, eh? Well, maybe. </p><p>I tried for a little fluff in the end because the Gods know we could all need some fluff. Thanks to those who read and commented ♥</p><p>This mini fic was inspired by a lot of different things, as you probably noticed while reading: The haunting of Hill House/Bly Manor for the title very obsviously, Silent Hill (the real world and the ghost world sort of existing at the same time), The Conjuring 2 (if you name a spirit, you can send it back), the scene in the Hobbit where Galadriel expels Sauron from Dol Guldur, the concept of Dream from the Gospel and Testament of Loki novels and the Rune novels by Joanne M. Harris and, last but not least, a movie that I watched a while back but can't for the life of me remember the title of. </p><p>That said: Happy Halloween/Happy Samháin 🦇🎃</p>
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